


L'amour des deux lapins: Arbre de la famille

by Polly_Lynn



Series: The Bunny Verse [6]
Category: Castle
Genre: F/M, Family, Gen, Humor, Romance, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1814542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polly_Lynn/pseuds/Polly_Lynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She hasn't been his little girl for a long time, though more of that surfaces these days. Mischievous smiles and that capacity for joy. That's Rick's doing, and he's more grateful than he can tell the man."  Sequel to L'amour des deux lapins: Ce n'est pas un caneton</p>
<hr/>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This sat around for a long while after I had stopped writing, but I decided, eventually, to post it. Still have mixed feelings about it.

She's already ordered for them both by the time Jim pushes through the front door of the diner. He slides into the booth across from her and unwinds the frigid air that's managed to work its way into the folds of his scarf on the walk over.

There's a cinnamon roll on his side of the table, warm and dripping. Absolutely untouched. It's his first hint that something's up. It's bribery, pure and simple, and she must want whatever it is badly to keep her telltale fingerprints from the pools of icing that settle on the rim of the plate.

He peers into the steaming mug waiting for him. She's done his coffee the way he used to like it when she was little. That's hint number two.

Sundays were Johanna's show, but Saturday mornings she'd sleep in. Saturdays were for the two of them—for him and Katie and the paper side by side. She'd beg to fix his coffee for him. Every Saturday and he can almost see her now. His little girl peeking at him over her shoulder. Looking for a nod as she poured the milk in a thin stream, stirring all the while until it was just the right color.

He hasn't drunk it that way in years. He's not really supposed to have it at all. Coffee. It's too tied up with the balancing act from when he was drinking. Keeping wide awake and playing at coping.

It's mostly milk when he lets himself have it these days, but the memory is too sweet, and it's one more disappointment he doesn't want be responsible for. He takes a sip. He smiles at all the Saturdays past and the hint of sugar.

She smiles back. She fiddles with her silverware. Catches herself and frowns, wrapping her hands around her own mug to keep them still. That's hint number three.

"What kind of damage am I looking at here, Katie?" he asks.

Her eyes fly wide in surprise, and his breath catches as the years fall away from her. She could be seventeen. Eighteen. Begging to meet him here—to get out of the apartment—to vent about how _impossible_ her mother was. To plead with him to reason with her about some thing or another that she _had_ to have. _Had_ to be allowed to do. Or something she'd already done that was about to come crashing down around her ears.

But she's gone in a second. His little girl. There's a wry twist to her lips that says she knows she's been made, and he thinks for the first time that she looks a bit like him. The little girl is all Johanna, and Lord knows the teenager was, too. But there's a hint of his own face and something familiar about the set of her shoulders in the woman sitting across the table today.

"Damage?" she says with an innocent sip at her own coffee. A poker face to rival her mother's, whatever glimpse of him there was a moment ago.

He picks up knife and fork and sets to work on the cinnamon roll. He spears a piece. Gestures in her direction with the fork, taunting a little. "Katherine Houghton Beckett. I'm a lawyer. I know when I'm being bribed."

Her eyes follow the fork hungrily. She laughs as he savors bite after bite and curls his arm around the plate defensively. "You seem pretty willing to be bribed, counselor."

"Only by my daughter," he says washing down a bite with the coffee.

"That works out for me," she replies with a grin, but she falls quiet again. She picks at her own pastry. Tearing off bites and dunking them in her own coffee. It's another childish gesture of hers. A nervous one she usually wouldn't let him catch her in.

He wonders what this is, but he's willing to wait. Happy to, if it means he gets to watch her for once. If he gets to drink in how far she's come in such a short time. If he gets to know this new version of her, bit by bit.

She hasn't been his little girl for a long time, though more of that surfaces these days. Mischievous smiles he recognizes and that capacity for joy he thought was gone forever. That's back, though, and it's Rick's doing. It's all Rick's doing, and Jim is more grateful than he can tell the man.

She's not the haunted woman, either. The one he faced across the table on visitor's day when she finally believed he'd stay the course in rehab. When they both finally believed that.

She's lighter than that. Softer and not afraid to show it. To ask for help. But bolder, too. She wants more. Expects more from the world around her, and he's willing to wait all morning if that's what it takes to find out what she's buttering him up for. He's glad of it. Willing to study and admire and come to know her.

"We need a favor," she says finally. It's been long enough—he's wrapped up in knowing her enough to startle a little—but he doesn't miss the pronoun. He doesn't miss the faint pink in her cheeks. _We._ She likes it, but she's not used to it, even now.

"A sitter," she adds with a casual sip at her coffee.

"Is this an announcement?" he asks drily. He's joking, but she flushes deeper and looks startled. He doesn't miss that, either, even though she recovers right away.

"The rabbits, Dad." She rolls her eyes, but the color doesn't quite leave her cheeks. "We'd ask Martha, but her students are in final rehearsals. And we want to take Alexis out."

"Alexis," he says. He tries to keep the surprise out of his voice. The curiosity. The two of them get along famously—he and Alexis. They both enjoy the odd couple they make. Ganging up on Katie and Rick.

It's not always so easy with her and Katie, though. It wouldn't be with anyone in their situation, he supposes. But their two particular histories—one girl who lost her mother too soon, the other who never had one—complicate things in ways neither of them expects sometimes. She's prickly about it. Katie is, and even with him Alexis is reserved. Especially with him, maybe.

"Everything ok?" he prompts.

She's quiet. Thoughtful, though. Not troubled, he thinks, even though she has been of late. Katie rarely say much, but she relies on Rick's even temper. They both do, and things have been off recently. Something to do with Alexis—Rick and Alexis for once, he's pretty sure of that—though he doesn't know exactly what.

But she smiles wide now, and he sees the weight of that is gone. Whatever this is, it's new. A happier burden of some kind.

"Yeah. Things are good. Better. But that's part of the favor." She hides behind her mug and looks up at him slyly. "It's not just the rabbits."

He does a double-take at that. Thinks about the blush and the startled look. He was teasing, but he doesn't know _what_ to think now.

"Alexis?"

She laughs out. A little too long and a little too hard. She's nervous and he's well and truly lost. "Katie?"

"Sorry. No, not . . . Alexis isn't . . . Well, I guess she _is_. But not like you think. There's . . ." She makes a face, like she can't quite believe what she's about to say. She shakes her head, but she's biting back another wide grin. It tickles her and has her shaking her head whatever this is. "There's a duckling in the mix."

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She hasn't been his little girl for a long time, though more of that surfaces these days. Mischievous smiles and that capacity for joy. That's Rick's doing, and he's more grateful than he can tell the man." A WIP in the Bunneh-verse. Sequel to L'amour des deux lapins: Ce n'est pas un caneton
> 
> * * *

He's at the loft early. Even for him. He's curious, though. About their strange—apparently growing—menagerie and some subtext he seems to be missing. So he gets there early enough to watch the two of them awhile. The five of them, he supposes, and he wonders what he's really in for.

Rick ushers him inside with even more effusive thanks than usual. He runs through half a dozen things he'd love to get for him. Jim politely declines each one, and the younger man hangs his head eventually.

"I'm doing it again," he says with a laugh. "Standing on ceremony."

"Don't worry, son." He claps him on the shoulder. "Katie always gives me enough abuse for both of you." He looks around, expecting a sharp comeback, but his daughter is nowhere to be seen.

"Still getting ready," Rick answers the gesture with a motion toward the bedroom.

It's a strange reversal. Katie's usually the one to greet him. She's usually the one to sit and make small talk, swinging an impatient foot and tossing pointed comments Rick's way.

He's early, but even for a bigger occasion than Rick's casual shirt and jeans suggest, it's not like her to still be fussing. She moans often enough about how Rick is the one who always has them running late. And, truthfully, even in the dark days of her teens, Jim's never known his daughter to be anything but efficient getting ready. Jim files that away, too.

"Thank you again for this, Jim." Rick steps around an out-of-place end table. There's weight to the words. Sincerity that reinforces the feeling that this night must be a big deal for them in some way he's not quite getting. "We really appreciate it. Alexis, too."

"Happy to help out, Rick," he says as he surveys the scene. "All of you."

All the furniture is out of place and there's crime-scene tape wound all around the model bridge. The couch is pushed to the wall and the coffee table is missing altogether. The armchairs are seat to seat, the gaps filled with pillows. There's another pillow fort off to one side, magazine racks and small trash cans providing support.

The center of the room is given up entirely to a giant wire pen with a molded plastic bottom. Jim stifles a laugh at the last minute, coughing into his fist and waving for Rick to go on with the nickel tour.

He knows about the pen. He'd heard about it in loud, profane detail from Katie back when _every_ conversation was about how ridiculous Rick was when it came to the rabbits. How overprotective and impulsive. How _impossible,_ and how she was clearly going to have to leave him and take the rabbits with her for their own protection. How she couldn't go on letting him smother the poor things with his over-the-top mothering.

But somehow even her outrage in the early days didn't really capture how _huge_ the pen is. It's hip high to Rick as he bends down and long enough on each side to hold ten of the big rabbit comfortably.

"Look, Ferrous," Rick says as the big rabbit raises up and goes willingly into his arms. "It's Granddad. Where's your Granddad smile?"

Jim tries to frown, but it's not easy. Rick assumes the innocent look that drives Katie up the wall, and damned if the rabbit's whiskers don't twitch and settle into something like a smile. Something familiar to him. Different from what was there a moment before.

"Ferrous," Jim says gravely. He shakes one paw, then the other like always. The rabbit squirms happily in Rick's arms. He patters his paws against Jim's palm and rumbles, delighted with the ritual.

Rick juggles Ferrous high on his shoulder to free up one arm. The big rabbit scrabbles a little. He turns himself awkwardly, anxious to be included. Rick says something in a low voice and taps him between the ears, though, and he settles soon enough.

"This, I'm afraid, is Charles Bovary." Rick leans down to scowl at the sole remaining inhabitant of the pen. The tiny yellow heap unfolds. It rises up, flashing orange here and there. It changes shape and resolves into a duck—tiny, inquisitive, and scowling right back at Rick.

"I . . . well . . . hello there," Jim stutters. He blinks down at the thing.

"Ferrous loves Chuck," Rick says. He holds the rabbit's nose to his own briefly. "Mysterious." Ferrous reacts to the name with a wriggle and a happy sigh. Rick shakes his head. "Batman and Chuck have a more . . . _complicated_ relationship. Which is why she's spending some quality time with Kate right now."

Rick goes on, stories and instructions and complete tangents mixing freely, but Jim only half hears. His mind is still processing the duck.

He knew, of course. Katie had warned him. This is what the bribery was about in the first place. Somehow that's what this about, anyway: _A duckling in the mix._

He's watched the rabbits on his own. Kept Martha company once or twice. He's even provided backup when Alexis had an emergency and didn't want to spoil a night out for the two of them. But it's an actual duck, and warning or no warning—bribery or no bribery—he hadn't quite believed it.

Until now. He leans into pen as Rick talks. He finds himself holding out a hand, fascinated as the flicker of his fingers catches the duckling's eye and the odd-looking little thing waddles closer.

The duck stops just shy of his actual fingertips. They regard each other soberly for a moment before it snaps its beak without warning. It— _Chuck_ —either misjudges the distance or only meant to tease. It misses his fingers, but the sound is sharp. A startling _pok_ that jerks Jim upright. "Hey, now!"

"Yeah, he does that," Rick says with an apologetic grimace. He twists around, looking for a place to set Ferrous. Jim takes the rabbit gladly and steps away from the pen as Rick bows sharply at the waist to catch the duck's beak between thumb and forefinger.

"No," he says sternly. He taps the underside of the duck's beak with a firm fingernail and wags the yellow head up and down once. "No _pok_ ing people. Or Batman, if you want to live. But definitely not people. _Especially_ Great-Granddad."

"Oh, Rick, now _really_." Jim blurts. It's a cross outburst before he can think better of it.

It's been a stand-off between them. Months now, with Rick calling him _Granddad_ and Jim studiously ignoring it. Studiously not rising to the bait and frustrating the hell out of the man in the process.

"Not a 'Granddad,' Jim?" Rick asks swiftly. He straightens, and there it is again. That innocent look that drives his little girl up the wall. That would drive a saint up the wall. "I wondered about that. Never had any. Grandparents. That I knew, anyway. Papa, you think? Or just Grandpa Jim?"

"You might do me the courtesy of marrying my daughter before we talk titles, son." Jim cuts in curtly.

Rick stumbles, then. The words are coming too fast for him to stop right away but he trails off. Jim fights back a satisfied smile.

"That's . . . um . . . we're working on that." He swallows hard. Glances toward the bedroom, then back at Jim. "Sir."

"And maybe some human grandchildren first?" He tickles Ferrous under the chin. He tells himself he's just trying not laugh. That it would be ridiculous to worry about hurting the rabbit's feelings. But he's glad enough to see the familiar smile and feel the satisfied weight of Ferrous settling closer. "Might be a good idea before you go foisting great-grandducks on me, right, Ferrous?"

He glances up at Rick, fully prepared to enjoy watching him squirm a while longer, but the younger man is smiling. He's beaming all over his face when he says quietly, "Part of the plan, Jim."

They stare at one another, both silent now. Both unsure what comes next. If they hug or shake hands or pretend that he's not here to rabbit-sit. To duckling-sit. That they're not having a conversation—however oblique—about his daughter's sex life.

They stare at one another until a voice sounds out behind them. Katie, stern and sounding harried, but happy underneath. _So_ happy underneath.

"It's too quiet in here, Batman," she says. The tiny black rabbit glares. She gathers herself on the flat of Katie's palm, ready for anything. "They're up to something. I'll get it out of the big one. You break your grandfather."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She hasn't been his little girl for a long time, though more of that surfaces these days. Mischievous smiles and that capacity for joy. That's Rick's doing, and he's more grateful than he can tell the man." A WIP in the Bunneh-verse. Sequel to L'amour des deux lapins: Ce n'est pas un caneton

  


* * *

It's a flurry of activity getting them out the door after that.

Katie looks at her watch and scolds Rick for how late it is. He opens and shuts his mouth, but she's gone already. She moves around the living room, gathering things up and double checking gates and latches and feeding set ups. Telling Jim things he already knows. Things that are printed out in painstaking detail. Things Rick's just told him.

Rick trails behind her insisting he's already _done_ that. He casts pleading looks toward Jim, who ignores them, of course. Rick should know by now that Beckett women are always right.

"Batman will try to wear you down when it's time to go back in the hutch," Katie says. She frowns at the bright-eyed bundle in her palm. "But it's not summer vacation every time Chuck is here, right you?"

The little rabbit chatters and turns her back on Katie. Rick stifles a laugh and gives an exaggerated wince when Batman twists her head around and he gets a double-barreled glare.

"You might take Chuck out of sight for a while when it's time. You can turn on music or the TV so Ferrous can't hear him."

"Otherwise, it's a Ferrous dance party," Rick puts in. "Fun, but Batman is not a fan."

Katie shakes her head as if she can't quite believe this is her life. Jim sympathizes, but her small, quiet smile tells its own story.

She leans down to set the black rabbit in the pen. Ferrous scurries over for a frenzied reunion and the duck waddles after him. Rick smoothes a hand down her back as the two of them watch for a moment, fond and anxious, before Katie turns to Jim again.

"Once they're in for the night, you have to just . . . kind of ignore them until they settle down."

"A handful of Lucky Charms scattered at the back of the hutch goes a long way," Rick tells Jim in an exaggerated stage whisper. "Trick I picked up with Alexis. Not that I kept her in a hutch . . . although . . ."

He gets a sharp twist of the ear for it. "We are not feeding the rabbits Lucky Charms."

"Ow!" Rick ducks under her arm and slides a hand over his face to wipe away an ill-advised grin. "Ok, ok. But what about a baby hutch? It makes a lot of . . ."

"Castle!" Katie goes bright red as she hisses his name.

Rick catches her around the waist, though. He laughs softly and presses her burning cheek to his shoulder, settling her with a quiet word in her ear. Jim pointedly busies himself reading over the long list of instructions he knows by heart at this point. He watches them out of the corner of his eye. Puts more of the pieces together.

They break apart. Katie takes another look at her watch and gives Rick a heavy look. She's trying to get their coats from the closet. More specifically, she's trying to get Rick into his, but he keeps wandering back to tell Jim one more thing. Katie tugs him to the door with less and less patience. But she's the one who turns back when she finally manages to wrestle him out into the hall.

"Dad, thanks again," she says. "I know this is . . . but thanks. Thanks."

Her cheeks are still pink and her free hand flutters over the buttons of her blouse. She's nervous and eager and the little details make her so much like her mother that his heart cracks and seals over with something new. Hope for her. Excitement and hope for them.

"Anything for my girl, Katie," he says. "You know that."

* * *

He's expecting Rick to call. The man fusses, there's no doubt about that. But he's surprised they've even had time to make it to the restaurant when the phone rings.

"All quiet here, Rick." He answers without bothering to check the caller ID. "And if this is about Katie 'picking on you' . . ."

"Dad, it's . . . wait . . . . He calls you about me _picking_ on him?"

"Katie." He sets down his book, trying not to sound alarmed. He seems to be failing at that. Three sets of bright eyes swing toward him and the pen goes silent. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah. Yes. Fine." She's trying for something bright and cheerful and _why-would-you-even-ask?_ But he hears the uncertainty underneath. "I just . . . I couldn't remember if we warned you about the saucepan maypole thing."

Jim doesn't reply. She's told him about it, laughing until she cried. Rick's told him about it. A pathetic story filled with wounded sniffs and excruciating detail. They've told him in stereo, bickering and finishing each other's sentences. Calling each other liar and one- upping each other in the exaggeration department. To say it's a thin excuse for calling is generous.

"Katie." He confines himself to just her name. She may be the professional, but he's spent a lifetime interrogating her.

Chuck lets out a distressed _peep._ Batman slaps at him, but he's half hidden behind Ferrous, and everything's quiet on their end.

Quiet enough that he hears her let out a breath. The silence goes on. It lasts a beat longer than he's expecting. Not quite long enough for him to second guess himself, though, and she breaks.

"I'm not hiding," she says. He can picture the stubborn _vee_ between her brows. He can see the wrinkle in her chin as she chews her lip and one arm wrapped across her body.

"My daughter?" He scoffs. "Never."

"Just needed a minute." Her voice is small at first, then she's back. There's an eye roll he can practically hear, and fond annoyance beneath the words. "And it's tapas. They'll order two of everything anyway."

"Well, I've always got a minute for you." He weighs his options, trying to strike a balance between listening and drawing her out. "Anything you need to talk about we can cover in . . . fifty seconds?"

She laughs into the phone. "Not really, just . . . are we a weird family?"

"You and me? Or you and Rick . . . et al.?" He chuckles as he surveys the scene in the pen. The animals have lost interest in his little phone drama. There's a game of chase going on with Ferrous turning and turning in the middle while Batman does laps and the duckling occasionally cheats by flapping his way from one end of the Ferrous-defined "track" to the other. Jim shakes his head at nothing in particular. At everything. "The answer's yes either way."

" _Dad!"_

"All families are weird, Katie."

At that exact moment, Batman slaps the duck on both sides of its face—one paw, then the other, in rapid succession—for snapping its beak at Ferrous's tail and sending the big rabbit scurrying off with a frightened rumble.

"In their own way," he adds.

"It's just . . ." She exhales. "They _talk_. Castle's family. Everything gets aired out all the time and it's _drama._ And we—you and me and mom, too—we don't. Didn't. Not until we were all good and ready."

"Lawyers."

He deadpans it, but she's right. She grew up on carefully crafted argument and counter-argument. Every point shored up by evidence gathered well in advance. A different kind of drama, brutal in its own way.

"There's no right or wrong to it, Katie. Not absolutely. And your mother and I had more work to do to get on the same page than you might think."

"I know. . ." She pauses. "But there are things . . . it just makes things more real when you say them out loud."

"And you're not ready for . . . this to be real?" He treads carefully, not sure how much he's supposed to know. Not sure how much she's ready to talk to _him_ about.

"I thought I was."

"Well, for what it's worth, you went to a lot of trouble to make this dinner with Alexis happen," he says. "For example, you dragged yourself across town in the cold to bribe an old man into duck-sitting."

She laughs. Short, but sincere.

"You were excited that morning, Katie. You were excited tonight."

"Nervous," she says.

"That, too," he admits. "But mostly excited. Mostly happy."

She's quiet again. He hopes he hasn't said too much.

"Thanks." She sounds like she wants to add more, but settles for repeating herself. "Thanks, Dad."

"Anything. Now you get back to that weird family of yours."

She hesitates. "He really calls you about me picking on him?"

"Only when you do, Katie."

  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She hasn't been his little girl for a long time, though more of that surfaces these days. Mischievous smiles and that capacity for joy. That's Rick's doing, and he's more grateful than he can tell the man." A WIP in the Bunneh-verse. Sequel to L'amour des deux lapins: Ce n'est pas un caneton

* * *

Jim looks up in surprise when he hears the low hum of voices in the hall and the key in the lock. He's hardly just dropped on to the couch after getting the three animals settled at long last. He's worn out, but he can't tell if it's been hours or minutes since they left. He's been busy.

He does a quick sweep of the living room to make sure things aren't too badly out of order. He's a little sadder and wiser about Chuck's ability to fly and just how fast Batman can move. The place is chaos, but there's nothing too much the worse for wear since he got there, other than a few bits of his own skin. He tugs his cuffs down and his socks up.

"No one needs to know about the _pok_ -ing, do they now, Chuck?" he murmurs quietly.

The duck's body grows huge with a sudden breath. There's a brief glimmer of bright eyes, but he stays settled on the thick cushion of towels in his glorified shoebox.

The door to the loft swings open and they pour in together in a stream of quiet, affectionate chatter. Alexis is with them. They all seem a little worn out, too, but there are smiles all around.

Jim catches Katie's eye and she gives him a nod. She moves more easily than before they left. She's sharper with Rick, and he gives as good as he gets. Things are back to normal. Back to _their_ normal anyway.

Rick offers to get Chuck's things together so Jim and Alexis can catch up for a few minutes before he takes the two of them home. Katie follows, gathering items here and there along the way. She mutters about rolling suitcases for Chuck's new paraphernalia as Rick explains, in detail, why every single thing he bought was absolutely necessary.

Alexis shakes her head. She pulls an armchair away from the wall and starts to straighten things as best she can with the enormous pen still in the way of everything. Half of Katie materializes as she hears the scrape of the heavy chair over the floor.

"Oh, leave that, Alexis," s he says. "Your dad can take care of the OK corral when he gets back."

"But . . ." She looks around helplessly. "You guys already . . ."

"Sweetie!" Rick's head pops up over her shoulder. "We're banking favors, remember? We're gonna need them. Plus, Jim probably has Chuck-related trauma to get off his chest. Don't sugar coat it, Jim. She needs to know the worst about that . .. _duck_."

Katie blushes bright red. It's getting to be a habit. She tugs at Rick's collar and hauls him back into the office. Furious whispers rise and fall, but Alexis just smiles as she settles on to one end of the couch.

It went well tonight, Jim thinks. He's glad. He's glad for all of them.

"Don't listen to Pop-Pop," Alexis murmurs She lifts the duckling out of the box and on to her lap. "He's coming around, Chuck."

"Pop-Pop?" Jim gives a startled laugh, loud enough that the duckling stirs and flaps. He braces as his eyes shift toward the rabbit hutch.

"He _hates_ it. It's perfect." Alexis gives Jim a conspiratorial grin as she stirs her fingertips in slow circles, around and around the downy yellow head. Chuck _peep_ s softly, just once. He burrows his beak into the bright folds of Alexis's sweater and drops off to sleep again.

The two of them chat quietly about Alexis's job and her new apartment. They smile at the sounds of bickering as they rise and fall from the office. They share an embarrassed smile when things go a little too quiet in that particular corner of the loft. Neither of them needs to think about the sounds of _not_ bickering.

Jim adds a few tales of his own to Chuck's repertoire. Alexis laughs and blushes and apologizes.

"The top of the cabinets?" Alexis cranes her neck toward the kitchen, trying to judge the distance from the floor. "How did you get him down?"

"Can we agree it was my commanding tone?" Alexis narrows her eyes. It's a look he's seen her give Rick a hundred times. He laughs, too, delighted somehow to be on the receiving end of it. "Popcorn, I'm afraid."

"That's Dad," she says with a mock scowl. "He pretends Chuck is his archenemy, then he spoils him."

"It's what grandfathers do, I'm told. The spoiling part anyway."

He doesn't really mean anything by it, but Alexis looks up, her gaze more than a little sharp. Guarded. He realizes that they've stumbled into something complicated. And not just the conversation. Not just this. Tonight.

She calls him Jim. Mr. Beckett when she forgets, but that's less and less nowadays. He doesn't spoil her, and she calls him for advice. She stops by sometimes, or they'll meet for lunch every once in a while, just because she's on his side of the city. They get along.

He's not her grandfather, but maybe he could be. Maybe he will be. They're more than on the fringes of each other's lives, and he wonders if she wants to talk about this. About what he suspects this is, whether he's meant to know or not. He waits, though. He's not sure how to start.

"We had a nice time," she says after a minute. Slowly, like she's mulling it over. "Dad and me and Kate. A grown-up dinner." She looks startled, then. Worried all of a sudden. "Thank you. Did I say thank you?"

"You did. About six times," he teases her gently. He wonders about the sudden retreat to formality. If she's uncomfortable. If she thinks he is. "I suppose it's good practice," he adds carefully. Something about the thoughtful, far-away look she has and the way she gathers the little duck closer makes him want to reach out. To take a chance. "Rabbit-sitting. Duck-sitting."

It's something she can pick up or not, he hopes. An offering so she knows he's willing. He's glad when she does pick it up. Gladder than he realized he would be when she gives him a sly grin.

"Practice," she says. "Dad plus Kate? You're gonna need it."

"We all are," Jim agrees.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She hasn't been his little girl for a long time, though more of that surfaces these days. Mischievous smiles and that capacity for joy. That's Rick's doing, and he's more grateful than he can tell the man." A WIP in the Bunneh-verse. Sequel to L'amour des deux lapins: Ce n'est pas un caneton

  
Katie shoves Rick out the door the third time he comes back for something of Chuck’s they forgot. Alexis pulls from the other side. Chuck seems to be the only one enjoying the situation. His peeps grow in frequency and volume as the carrier passes from hand to hand, swinging all the while.

“Castle. Alexis lives fifteen minutes away, not in outer Mongolia,” she grumbles as she herds him into the hallway. “If there’s anything else she doesn’t already have at home, we can bring it by in the morning.”

“You’re pretty anxious to get rid of me,” he says, trying and failing to make a last stand in the doorway.

“I am. You’re going to wake Ferrous and he’s going to wake Batman.” She gestures to the living room where Jim is getting a start on setting the furniture to rights. “Plus Dad and I are going to talk about you behind your back.”

“Do you see, Jim?” he calls in from the hall. “Do you see how she picks on me?”

“You knew the job was dangerous when you took it, Rick.”

“Dangerous.” He grins and leans back in. Katie tugs him by the hair and kisses him. “Even your dad thinks you’re dangerous, Beckett.”

Jim clears his throat and turns away. Alexis does the same in the hallway. The two of them jump apart and Katie finally manages to get the door closed on him.  
.

"Thought Rick was on OK corral duty?" He jokes as the two of them work side by side.

"I'm too tired to stay up nagging him to do it." She leans a wire panel against the wall. "And I'd like to wake up to a place to sit and have coffee."

They set aside the snap-together pieces of base. She tries to get him to leave the heavy arm chairs and the couch.

“I’m not that old, Katie.”

“Really? You looked pretty beat when we came it.” She lifts her end of the couch. Together they swing it back in place.

“Well, it’s been a while since I had to thwart escape attempts.” He laughs at the look of horror on her face.

“Oh, no . . . they didn’t.” Her head swivels toward the hutch, but all’s quiet save for Ferrous’s snoring.

“They didn’t make it far,” he says as he redistributes throw pillows. “But they settled down a little too quickly, so I gave Chuck the run of the powder room while I checked on them. Batman was working out a plan to get up to the bridge, but Ferrous was playing hide and seek.”

“Armchair?”

“Best hiding place ever,” he nods. “He’s as predictable as you were.”

“I was not predictable!” She jerks upright, stalled in the act of dragging an end table back into place. “You and mom don’t know the half of what I got up to in high school.”

“I’d be shocked if there were more than one or two things we missed.” Jim laughs. “I missed, anyway. Your mother spared me a lot. She was better about that. When to step in. What to let go.”

She plumps down on the big ottoman, disbelieving. “Mom? Mom letting things go? She was always on me.”

He sets the magazine rack down next to the couch and sits opposite her. “Not always. That window you’d come and go through? I nailed that shut more times than I can count. She’d pry it back open and talk me down.”

“Only so she could catch me.” She rocks the trash can at her feet back and forth. “She’d drag that chair in from the kitchen and sit with her arms folded. Just around the corner so I’d have to waste all that energy scrambling up the trellis and scaling the porch overhang.”

“She only caught you when were really up to something that could get you hurt. Or the kind of trouble that would follow you. She saw so much of that. That worried her.” He tries to catch her eye, but she’s staring at her knees.

"And the nights she didn't catch me?" She looks up, finally, her eyes just a little too bright.

“Oh, we’d lie there together, listening for you." He pauses, the memory all too present right now. "She worried every bit as much as I did, but she’d say ‘Jim, there are some things we’re not gonna win. Save your energy’.”

She laughs. He sees it more than hears it. A brief hitch of her shoulders. He waits for her to come around to it. Whatever it is she wants to get out. This is more than just remembering together. It’s something on her mind right now.

“Am I making a mistake?” She looks up at him. Frowns. “I know Castle told you. He wasn’t . . . we were going to tell you together.”

“Is there anything to tell?” He looks her up and down.

“No!” Her hands fly to her middle and she blushes. Again. It's wonderful. “No. We’re a long way from that. But we’re . . . Castle and I tend to stumble into things. The big stuff. And we’re . . . it’s harder than it needs to be. So we thought if we just talked about things. . . . Us and family both.”

“Talking about things.” He shakes his head with exaggerated skepticism. “That sounds like a Castle plan.”

“Tell me about.” She rolls her eyes and falls quiet. She looks away then back to him. “I never even considered it, you know?”

“I don’t know, actually,” he says. It’s gentle, but the point hits home. The two of them don’t talk. Too often, they don't talk. She nods, head down, and he goes on. “But I wondered.”

“I just . . . Mom. And I was only nineteen. And then just . . . kind of in the background—being a cop and everything I see all the time—I thought ‘How could I?’ How could anyone want to bring kids into this world?”

“She did.” He says it right away, and makes himself go on. For once, he decides not to weigh things first. “Your mother saw the worst of the world in her work. But she was always the one who wanted children. She said it made her fierce. Having you made her absolutely determined to fix what she could.”

“You didn’t? Want kids,” she clarifies.

There’s nothing but curiosity. There’s no hurt there. Not on her side. He treads carefully, anyway. For his own sake. For the memories he keeps and those he sets aside.

“I hadn’t really thought about it. And I certainly didn’t want to talk about it. We were both so wrapped up in school. Thinking about getting our careers started.” He shakes his head, remembering. “I must have said, ‘we’ll see what happens,’ a dozen times when she finally snapped and told me that we might as well not go on together if I wasn’t man enough to have the conversation.”

“Ouch. Castled.” She grins eagerly. Hungry as always to know things about Johanna, and he swears again to be better about that. To be better for both of them, because she deserves to know her mother. The woman she is now still needs her, and she deserves to know her.

“She was right.” He winces at the memory even now. “It wasn’t a comfortable conversation. But it was one we needed to have. It’s important to know where you both stand. I’ve seen a lot of heartbreak between people who thought they could talk each other around to their way of thinking when the time came.”

She makes a face. “I hate when Castle’s right.”

He wonders about that. Whether she just means forcing the conversation or if it's more than that. He has a hard time imagining anyone talking his daughter into anything of consequence. If there’s a man alive who could, it’s Rick Castle. But Jim still doesn’t see it. However far Katie has come since she’s known him, she’s as deliberate as ever about life. Her own and the ones she touches.

He thinks about her on the other side of the grimy diner booth, smiling and cajoling. He thinks about her in the doorway tonight and on the phone. Hugging Alexis goodbye and the peaceful set to her shoulders.

Rick hasn’t talked her into anything, but he wonders if she knows that. He decides she probably should.

“Alexis said you had a nice night,” he prompts. “So that part went well?”

“Yeah.” She gives a twisted little smile. Laughing at herself. At Rick, probably, too. “Kind of an anticlimax. She thought . . . you know." Her hand flutters to her belly again. "She promised to keep Martha under control for the baby shower. Which . . . I guess is sweet?”

“Baby shower.”

He hears the words. His own voice, but so strange. He realizes she’s right. Saying the words makes things more real. His little girl might have a little girl of her own sometime soon.

“You’re not making a mistake,” he says suddenly.

She looks up at him, blinking in surprise. It’s definite. A flat, certain statement, and not really his style. Not when it comes to her. Not when it comes to anything since they lost Johanna.

He listens. Stays neutral and reflects her own thoughts back to her. And as much as that drives her crazy sometimes, this—sudden, flat certainty—knocks her back. He goes on anyway. She’s listening at least. Startled, but listening.

“It’s the biggest risk you’ll ever take, Katie. And it will hurt.”

He’s living proof of that right now. He thinks about the little girl Johanna will never know. The little boy or one of each. He thinks about the years he lost with his daughter. Drinking and working back toward one another in their slow, careful way. The fact that they still don’t talk about a lot of things, all these years on. He’s living proof.

“You’ll be terrified all the time, and you and Rick will drive each other crazy trying to control all these situations and keep her safe. You’ll nail the windows shut and pry them open again.”

“Dad . . .” She reaches a hand out.

He takes it. Holds it tight enough that she winces a little, but she doesn’t pull back. “And for all that, it’s not a mistake.”

The front door swings open. Neither of them even heard the key. Jim watches as her head tips down and she swallows hard. She lifts her face and it’s all still there. Happiness. Hope. Fear, too. Doubt, but a little less, and he thinks he might have helped. He hopes he has.

“It’s all lies, Jim,” Rick says as he drops his keys on the table by the door. “Whatever she’s told you is 100% fiction. She has a real problem.”

Jim gives his daughter’s fingers a squeeze as he stands.

“All lies, Rick?” He quirks an eyebrow and lets his hard stare do its work. “Well. Isn’t that interesting?”

“Well, maybe not all lies?” Rick looks from one to the other and back again. “Truth is the heart of a good lie, after all.”

“Is it now?” Jim’s tone is casual as he flicks through the coats in the front closet and retrieves his own. “And you have a lot of experience with this, do you?”

“I mean . . . I . . . you know. As a writer . . .”

Rick stammers on until Katie decides to rescue him. She creeps up behind him and raises on her toes to whisper in his ear. “Quit while you’re ahead, Castle?”

“But I’m never ahead,” he whines. He reaches an awkward arm behind him to curl around her waist and pull her forward. “Is anyone ever ahead with Becketts?”

“Not usually,” Jim says. “But it’s not polite to gloat.”

Rick shakes his hand and Katie lingers a little when she hugs him. A wordless thank you for more than an evening chasing rabbits around. She and Rick stand hip to hip in the doorway, waving and thanking him again and again.

Jim finally makes it a few steps down the hall. They’re just turning to head back inside when he stops.

“Rick?”

The younger man looks up, smiling with his hand at the small of Katie’s back as he holds the door for her. “Yeah, Jim?”

“Grandad will be fine.”


End file.
